


Gabrielle

by Dormammu12



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Erotica, F/M, Meet-Cute, Online Dating, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dormammu12/pseuds/Dormammu12
Summary: They meet at the supermarket. It's not the best place to arrange a hookup, but there are worse places.
Relationships: Gabrielle/Warren
Kudos: 7





	Gabrielle

**Author's Note:**

> I am Dormammu12 on DeviantArt. My online presence may be viewed in its totality here: linktr . ee / dormammu12
> 
> I also take commissions. Contact me on dA for more.
> 
> The sex scene is available on Patreon.

Ella , 26

1 km away

Netflix and chill?

Warren swiped left.

Rosie , 24

1 km away

Just looking for people to chat with, nothing romantic…

Warren swiped left.

Jenny , 21

2 km away

GEMINIS DO NOT INTERACT

Warren sighed, removed his spectacles, and swiped left.

Gabrielle , 24

2 km away

I love kids!

Warren shoved his spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose, leaned forward, and squinted at the screen.

Gabrielle - if that was her real name - stood in profile, chest-length hair cascading down her neck. Her head was turned to the right, and her large eyes stared at the camera, as if daring the viewer to swipe right on her. It was no wonder that she was so brazen; she was obviously pregnant, and very much so. Her floral-printed dress hugged every last one of her curves, from the obvious heft of her breasts to the swell of her buttocks, but by far the highlight of her frame was the enormous bulge of her stomach.

“Wow,” Warren muttered. Even though it was just him in his apartment, the sight of her made him flush. He bit his lip, glanced around, and swiped right. Then, he tossed his phone to the side, rose to his feet, and started to pace, already regretting his decision.

Warren had recently graduated from university. His father, who ran a semiconductor company, had snapped him up more or less immediately thereafter, although he’d certainly interned at other companies while studying. As the oldest of five siblings, it had fallen to him to carry on his family’s legacy. It was not going to be an easy task, but Warren had never considered taking his talents elsewhere; blood was blood, after all. Anyway, it wasn’t even particularly hard work, and he was well-liked by his colleagues, who would be his subordinates by the time he hit thirty and was promoted into the upper echelons of the company.

There was, however, a minor issue: he didn’t have a girlfriend.

Even though he knew he was alone, the thought made Warren cringe in embarrassment. Still wandering about his apartment, worrying over everything and nothing, he decided to return to the couch and put something on. Perhaps it would set his mind at ease.

There was nothing on TV, but YouTube had some promising videos, and Warren settled on an informative-looking clip discussing Mars and the colonization thereof. It was an interesting video, and he was halfway through it when his phone buzzed.

Warren lunged for his phone so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

Gabrielle: Hi!

Warren: Hello! I see that you’re a big fan of kids.

Gabrielle: OMG yes!!! Love the little tykes

Warren: That’s nice to hear.

Warren: I feel like I ought to let you know that I’m not really a particular fan of kids, if that’s a deal-breaker or something.

Gabrielle: oh that’s okay… I think the fact that you even swiped right on me shows that you’re not a regular guy ;)

Warren: haha

Gabrielle: haha

Warren wiped his sweaty palms down on his pants.

Warren: Wanna meet?

Gabrielle: sure

Gabrielle: Dawson Square?

Warren: I know that place

Gabrielle: meet at the supermarket? 7pm

Warren: Sure

Gabrielle: it’s a date! ;)

She used a lot of emojis.

Warren stared at his phone until he was sure that Gabrielle no longer had anything else to say. Then he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and headed into the kitchen to get a can of beer. Given what he had just agreed to, a spot of pre-gaming seemed appropriate.

It wasn’t like Warren was a total shut-in. He’d been moderately well-liked all his life. He’d been in a club before. He had female friends. There was just, well…

Relationships weren’t really his forte.

Warren was a calming, reassuring presence. He was a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand, a friendly face. A boyfriend, though? He’d tried, of course. Three times, to be exact. On the third try, he’d given up and decided to entrust his fate to Tinder. (Things had been awkward for a while between him and those three girls, and they’d, well… they’d lost touch. Warren wasn’t sure if the decision had been his or theirs; a little bit of both, probably.)

“Fuck,” Warren muttered, tossing his empty beer can into a dustbin, and headed into his bedroom to change.

\-----

It was six-thirty when Warren left his house, dressed in a thin jacket, a shirt, and a pair of pants. He’d agonized over whether to wear a button-up or a T-shirt, but had eventually settled on the former. Anyway, what was done was done; he’d just have to hope that it went well.

It wasn’t that Warren had never been on a date before, because he had; it was more that he always got nervous before a date. This date, in particular, was particularly nerve-wracking, and it wasn’t because Gabrielle was pretty; plenty of his dates had been pretty, and he’d never gotten anywhere with them. No, it was because Gabrielle was pregnant, and Warren had something of a fetish for that.

Warren had often wondered if this was why he’d always had such bad luck with women. He knew he wasn’t a bad catch. Was it because women could somehow tell if a man had a particularly egregious kink?

“Feh,” he muttered, waving the thought away. “Just drive.”

He reached Dawson Square in fifteen minutes. The streets were packed, this early in the evening, stuffed to the brim with cars, buses and taxis, all filled with urbanites en route to their various destinations. It was Saturday, and the night was young. Warren liked how the city lit up in the evening; he enjoyed hanging out on his balcony, watching the lights flicker on, one by one, the billboards, the massive logos, the twinkling windows in the skyscrapers.

Into his parking lot he went, relying on his rear-mounted camera, and sighed in relief as his wing mirror narrowly avoided sustaining a nasty scrape from an adjoining pillar. Hastily, he exited his car, locked the doors, and hurried into the mall, hands shoved into his pockets. The directory told him that he was on the same floor as the supermarket, and that was where he went.

Dawson Square was a reasonably out-of-the-way mall, and wasn’t located on the main shopping thoroughfare, but it wasn’t exactly located in the suburbs, either. Christmas lights had been put up, even though it was October, and Warren found himself being dragged - not entirely unwillingly - into a festive mood as he made his way past sweet-smelling booths and shops with glitzy displays. Before long, he’d reached the supermarket.

He didn’t really want to look like he was looking for anyone, and so he kept his gaze fixed on the shelves, having taken up position on Aisle Six. In fact, now that he was actually in the supermarket itself, going over the same few shelves over and over again, it suddenly occurred to him how odd this meeting place was. Was this Gabrielle a kook? Was she seeking to entrap him? Warren understood that his parents expected and wanted him to settle down, but if he were to settle down with a total nut - even if she carried the baby weight well -

“Hey. Warren, right?”

Warren flinched, glanced to his left, and met the eyes of a woman who could not but be Gabrielle. She was standing right beside him, at a respectful distance, looking up into his eyes, and her right arm had looped through his left. In her left hand, she was carrying a grocery basket. She was prettier in person.

“Thanks,” Gabrielle replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and Warren realized that he’d said that last sentence aloud. She wore spectacles, with round frames, in the Korean style, and a loose blouse that overlapped with her black leggings. Not only was she prettier in person, she was definitely bigger in person, and Warren found his gaze drawn to the way the apex of her belly almost touched the plastic price-tags dangling from the shelves. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Warren repeated back, stupidly, and regained control of himself. Falling back on his manners, he extended his right hand.

“Pleasure,” Gabrielle answered, grasping his hand lightly, and held out her basket. Her palm was soft and cool. “Would you mind holding this for me? I needed to get some shopping done, so…”

“No problem.” Warren hefted her basket in one hand, glancing over the contents, and raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be carrying such a heavy package in your condition.”

“Oh, I’m not that delicate.”

“Is there any reason why you wanted to meet at a supermarket, of all places?”

“Well,” began Gabrielle, manoeuvring Warren away out of the aisle in which they had been chatting for the past few minutes, “I actually did need to get some shopping done, and besides, if we meet at the supermarket, it’ll be less weird.” As they made their way to the cashier, she leaned over and lowered her voice. “It’s a good thing we left when we did; people were starting to stare. Should’ve picked up some cans of soup.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Anyway, I mean,” Gabrielle continued, “it would be kinda weird if I, a pregnant woman, were to meet you at a mall. Most people expect pregnant women to be, y’know, married, and if we were to meet, like, out in the open, they’d wonder. And they’d whisper. And I hate when that happens.” She took a deep breath. “If we meet at the supermarket, it’ll be like - y’know - a man meeting his wife at the supermarket. Like, she was here, shopping for groceries, and he showed up to say hi and fetch her home. Isn’t that what couples do?”

“I don’t think a good husband would let his pregnant wife heave such a large amount of groceries around for more than thirty seconds,” Warren offered, as Gabrielle fished a glossy black clutch from her handbag, paid the cashier, and handed him a reusable canvas bag. “Besides, kinda putting the cart ahead of the horse here, aren’t you? You’ve got a really vivid imagination, though, I won’t deny that.”

“Isn’t it amazing to think about, though?” Gabrielle sighed, leaned against Warren’s arm, and smiled up at him. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, yeah?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Warren gathered up Gabrielle’s groceries and plonked them into her canvas bag.

“It sounds like a rom-com, is what it is.” Gabrielle glanced away, feigning petulance for a brief moment, and they continued to amble through the mall. As they rounded a corner, she guided Warren towards the escalator, glancing in bemusement at an ugly plastic sculpture of a reindeer. “It’s clichéd.”

“Well, I think it's appealing.” Warren adjusted his collar, attempted to relax, and glanced at Gabrielle again. There was just something about her, but he couldn’t quite place it. "Don't worry about it."

“There’s a good Turkish place on the second floor,” Gabrielle said. “Wanna go there?”

“By all means.”

As they neared the restaurant, Warren caught the eye of one of the waiters and held up two fingers. They were ushered indoors quickly, then, Gabrielle taking care to avoid bumping into people, and seated at a nice, out-of-the-way table.

It wasn’t until he’d helped Gabrielle into her seat and made himself comfortable that Warren realized that he’d forgotten to pay her a compliment. “Gosh, where are my manners?” He ran his hands through his hair, injected a hint of contrition into his expression, and met her eyes. “You look great, Gabrielle. I love your glasses.”

“Thanks.” Gabrielle leaned back, interlaced her fingers on top of her belly, and smiled. She had a pretty smile, though some of her teeth were crooked. (Then again, it wasn’t like Warren was one to talk; his teeth had all gone yellow by the time he’d turned twenty.) “You’re not half-bad, yourself.”

After they’d ordered, Warren adjusted his seating position and decided to toss out a few more details about himself, just to keep the conversation going. “I work in manufacturing. Semiconductors.” He didn’t want to leak too much information about his family, though; if Gabrielle latched onto him because he was rich, he’d never hear the end of it. “Got my MBA at Oxford.”

“That’s nice.” Gabrielle tilted her head. “I’m an accountant. I studied at SMU. My father runs a small construction company, and I help him to do the accounts.”

“Cool.”

They subsided into silence for a while. Gabrielle took a sip from her water, Warren took a sip from his water, and they stared at one another. The silence stretched.

“So,” Warren started, clearing his throat, “um, what’s the story?”

“This?” Gabrielle asked, dragging one finger over the upper hemisphere of her belly.

Warren nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Well, it’s a funny story, really.” Gabrielle looked down, rearranged her utensils, and bit her lip. (Warren crossed his legs under the table and forced his arousal down.) “I’m not… well, this is the first time that I’ve gone on a Tinder date since I got pregnant. My luck with relationships has been pretty bad.”

“I don’t judge.”

“Yeah,” Gabrielle muttered, glancing away. “That’s what they all say.”

A few moments passed. Warren waited.

“So, I’d just graduated,” Gabrielle began, leaning forwards. “And, well, long story short, I had unprotected sex.”

“Oh.”

“No boyfriend, either,” she added, glancing up to thank the waiter as he laid two bowls of clam chowder in front of them. “I dated pretty casually throughout university, but none of them were, y’know, the one. I’d just broken up with my latest squeeze when I went to a party, got blackout drunk, and - well -” She pointed at her stomach. “This happened.”

“Ah,” Warren muttered, tactfully. “I see.”

“My turn to ask the questions,” Gabrielle said, then, after the silence had dragged for a whole minute, taking a sip from her chowder and shivering as the warm soup trickled down her throat. “Why’d you swipe right on me? Lots of guys swipe right, chat for a bit, and call me a whore. I block them all, of course.”

Warren raised his eyebrows, mind churning. “Well,” he hedged, “I think you’re good-looking.”

“Mhm.” Gabrielle took a long, considering sip from her iced tea, and stared at him over the rim of her glass. Warren felt rather put on the spot. “And?”

“You looked like you would be compatible with me, is all,” Warren managed, sagging back in his chair, and shrugged. “I dunno why I swiped right, honestly. It was just a feeling. The heart wants what it wants.”

“Touché.”

Silence fell again, but it was a companionable one, this time, and they fell into conversation a few more times until the waiter arrived with their food.

\-----

“So, how far along are you?” Warren asked, once they’d gone dutch and left the restaurant, groceries in tow. Dawson Square was crowded tonight, yes, but not that crowded, and it was at that time of the night when everything felt a little more intimate. Or perhaps that was just Warren’s intimacy-addled mind talking.

“Thirty weeks.”

“Wow, thirty weeks? That’s…”

“Yeah, I look like I’m about to pop.” Gabrielle grinned and squeezed Warren’s arm gently. She wasn’t skinny, but she was slim, and her stomach was well on its way to absolutely dominating her delicate frame. It was so big that, as she waddled alongside him, Warren could feel it glance off his thigh from time to time, dangerously close to his crotch. “It’s twins.”

“And now you tell me,” Warren groused, very deliberately not thinking about his erection. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Oh, I’ve signed them away to a gay couple living somewhere in the northern districts.” Gabrielle checked her phone, ran one hand over the back of her neck, and nodded to herself before meeting his eyes. “So, do you wanna go somewhere?”

Warren tilted his head, heart pounding. He felt slightly inebriated. “Whose place?”

“Yours, I guess.”

“What are we going to do there?”

Gabrielle shrugged. “Netflix?”

“I could show you my model train collection.”

“What, seriously?”

“Nah.” Warren closed his eyes for a smidge longer than it took to blink, inhaled deeply, and exhaled in one smooth gust. Tonight had gone better than he’d imagined; in fact, it would not have been an exaggeration to say that this was arguably the best date he’d ever been on. (Not that he had a large sample size to draw on.) “We’ll probably have to come up with a convoy. We’ve both got cars, after all.”

“I could follow you. We’d leave the car park one-by-one, and once we reached your condo, you’d tell the guard to wave me in.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

A few quick arrangements later, Warren sat alone in his car, pinching the bridge of his nose, and fist-pumped so hard that he almost punched his dashboard. How had he been so lucky to find someone like Gabrielle? She was hot, she was pregnant, and she was… well, they liked the same things, and they worked in roughly the same sector. They were in the same employment situation. Things were good. Yes, things were going very well.

Night had fallen when his car cruised out of Dawson’s Square, Gabrielle’s pink Toyota sedan just barely visible in his rearview mirror. There was a hint of trepidation gathering in the pit of his stomach, though; Warren had never gotten this far with a date before. Would it go well? Would it go badly? Would nothing happen?

There was also the small issue of him being a virgin. Gabrielle was, quite obviously, not a virgin; would she be impressed? Contemptuous? God forbid, would she laugh at the size of his penis? Warren had never actively participated in one of those literal dick-measuring contests, but now, all of a sudden, he was reconsidering his decision. It helped to know the competition. Hopefully, his enthusiasm would outweigh his inexperience.

Then again, what was he doing, worrying over what might happen? For all he knew, they’d chat a bit, literally watch Netflix, and that’d be it. It would, of course, not be an ideal encounter, but -

He’d arrived back at his apartment building.

“Hi,” he told the security guard, leaning out of his window. “There’s a car behind me; please let her in as well.”

“Good luck, boy,” the security guard cracked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Warren reddened.

The warmth in his cheeks had only just begun to subside as he parked his car and watched Gabrielle’s headlights flicker out. In a few quick steps, he’d crossed over to her side and opened her door. “Thanks,” she murmured, heaving herself out of the car, and Warren offered his arm.

“Not gonna lie,” Gabrielle gasped, catching her breath as Warren helped her into the lobby, “I’ve never really been in this situation before.”

“That makes both of us.”

“I live in a condominium too, you know,” Gabrielle commented, as the lift doors slid shut, eyes fixed on the immense swell of her belly, puncturing the silence that had settled over everything. “It’s probably not that far from here, all things considered. We both live in the east.” She rolled her shoulders, sending her breasts surging forwards, and tied her hair back into a ponytail.

“I see.” Oh, Warren saw, alright; he could see every last straining thread on her blouse as it attempted - with some success - to hold her chest in check. Only the soft, intrusive ding of the lift doors opening pulled him away from the spectacle, and as he unlocked his door, undid his shoes and stepped over the threshold, he turned around, spurred by some unpredictable urge, and held out a hand to his date. “Mind your step.”

“Oh, I always mind my step,” Gabrielle demurred, and followed that impressive-sounding announcement up by almost-but-not-quite tripping, which would have been disastrous had Warren not been there to take her weight.

For a few moments, both of them said nothing. They were too busy getting Gabrielle indoors and shutting the door to speak, much less think rationally.

“… And I stand corrected.”

“I’m sure you do,” Warren muttered, pressing his lips together, and Gabrielle tipped her head back and laughed. She had a beautiful laugh. “Please,” he continued, as she ran her hands through her hair and turned to look at him, “would you mind removing your shoes before we go further? There’s a stool.”

Gabrielle kicked off her shoes, which were loose enough that she didn’t need to actually touch her feet to get them off. Warren leaned against the couch and watched her make her slow, ponderous way over to the couch.

Once she'd made herself comfortable, he joined her, and it was then that they both realized that they were alone, just the two of them, in Warren’s silent apartment. It seemed as though their physical proximity had become a living, breathing thing; they were so close to each other that they could barely speak.

The tension held for a single fraught moment.

“So,” Gabrielle breathed, “Netflix?”

Warren stared back, heart pounding in his ears, and blinked furiously. “Um,” he croaked, “would you like to try something else?”

A few moments passed.

“Yeah,” Gabrielle whispered, then, biting her lip, and started to unbutton her blouse. Warren watched the cloth fall away, exposing her enormous stomach, and, above, a simple black bra, beneath which her breasts hid. Of course he knew what they looked like; he’d watched enough porn to know. That - his experience with porn - was probably all that was keeping Warren from melting into a puddle on the floor at the sight.

“I feel…” he managed, “that you should be aware… that I have… very little experience.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Gabrielle said, airily, arching her back and wincing as little pops sounded from her spine, the ceiling-mounted lights playing over the fine bones of her neck. “Hell, you invited me into your house. That’s way more than what most guys would do. You’re okay in my books.” She adjusted her posture, fixing him with a gimlet eye, and began to pull her leggings down. “Actually, though, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Ask… away.” Warren swallowed, ran his tongue over his lips, and repeated himself in a bid to not sound so shell-shocked. “Um, ask away.”

“Do you like pregnant women?”

“Yeah. What gave you the idea?” Warren closed his mouth, then, horrified that he’d said such a thing, but Gabrielle laughed, again, her giggles bouncing off the walls, and it demolished - once and for all - every last inhibition that Warren had painstakingly constructed for himself. “I do like pregnant women, as a matter of fact,” he continued, voice growing stronger. “Hell, I love ‘em.”

“That’s good,” Gabrielle whispered, leaning in conspiratorially, and brushed her lips over Warren’s, pulling back at the last second. “I love them too.”

A moment passed.

“Not, you know, that I’m, like, a lesbian.”

“Yeah,” Warren said dryly. “I gathered.”

“Good,” Gabrielle giggled, having peeled her leggings off entirely, and slid off the couch, all but naked to Warren’s adoring eyes. “I’m, um…” She paused, fanned herself. “I really like pregnancy. I’ve always liked it. Since I was, like… since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be pregnant. I’m the second of two kids, so -”

“Shit,” Warren hissed, jumping to his feet, and Gabrielle watched as he ran to the window and started drawing the curtains. A second too late, she grasped the meaning of what she was doing, and her hands flew to her breasts, then to her belly, then to her crotch, futilely seeking to cover up every last square inch of skin on display… and there was, to be sure, a great deal of it just hanging out for all to see.

“We could give them a show,” she suggested, coyly, when Warren turned around, but the surprise had not yet faded from her eyes.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, moving back to her side, hands grazing her belly, and smiled at her cute little gasp. “Let’s not. You were saying?”

“Why don’t you share?” Gabrielle suggested, staring up at him, and, since the night was already going so well, Warren felt that he had no choice but to acquiesce.

“I don’t have much of a story,” he answered, shrugging diffidently. “I’ve always been attracted to pregnant women. At first, it was YouTube; then, it was… other websites. I’ve never tried using any of the specialized websites, though. I’d always resigned myself to having to go about it the old way - meet a girl, marry her, get pregnant, that sort of thing - but never…”

“… never like this,” Gabrielle finished, breathing shallowly as Warren’s breath tickled her collarbone. “Well, that’s how supply and demand works, Warren.”

“What’s your story?”

“There were girls at my high school who got pregnant,” Gabrielle said, cradling her belly, and Warren dared to lean in and kiss her neck. “Ooh… don’t stop. I considered that, of course - teenage pregnancy - but ultimately decided otherwise. It would’ve really ruined my chances of, y’know, having a university education and all that.”

“So you waited until university.”

“I waited until university,” Gabrielle agreed, eyes fluttering as Warren did his level best to explore her body. “I waited until I thought it was the right time, and then…” She gestured vaguely, at the extravagant curve of her middle, and smiled. “Ta-da.”

“That’s hot.”

“Yeah, it is.” Gabrielle’s stomach had been rubbing against Warren’s crotch for the past few minutes, and he was starting to get extremely excited. “So, um…” She pursed her lips, pulled off her panties. “Are we gonna, uh, do this, or -”

“You bet your ass -” and here Warren reached out, amazed at his own audacity, and delivered a slap to Gabrielle’s left buttock - “we’re going to do this.”

\-----

Some time later - Warren wasn’t exactly sure how long - he felt a light kick from where his hand had been tossed, carelessly, over the great big swell of Gabrielle’s belly. That broke him out of his stupor, and as he extricated himself from Gabrielle and her tangle of limbs, he realized that she’d woken up as well. “How long was I out?”

“Not long,” Gabrielle yawned, stretching luxuriously, and swung her legs sideways until they came into contact with her floor before laboriously heaving herself into a sitting position. Both of their spectacles had fallen off in the heat of the moment; Warren cast about for them for quite some time before emerging from behind the sofa in triumph. As he offered her spectacles to her, Gabrielle smiled wanly. “My hero.”

Warren smiled back, delighted, and looked down at the couch. “I’m going to have to wash the covers,” he observed, and thought a bit more. “Probably the cushions, too.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Gabrielle commented, hands braced on the small of her back, breasts still stubbornly wedged behind her bra, “you’re not bad for a first-timer.”

“Thanks.” Warren grabbed a box of tissue papers, took a few for himself, and handed the box to Gabrielle. “You know, I think I’m in the mood for another round.”

“Really?” Gabrielle grinned. “Me too.”

“Let’s get properly naked first, this time.” Warren came around the couch, slipped one finger up through Gabrielle’s bra strap, and let go, grinning at her little yelp. “My bedroom would probably be more comfortable.”

“God, yes.”


End file.
